You're Still Number One
by sparklylulz
Summary: She's five years younger than Haymitch, but she's really getting too old for this life, too. -Haymitch/Effie. Slight AU.


****a/n:**** I made Effie around 35 for this story.

title comes from the song "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun"

* * *

><p><strong><strong>one.<strong>**

Haymitch meets Effie somewhere around his tenth year mentoring; he's thankful that he isn't sober for the occasion, because she's much too loud and happy for him. It's disgusting, the way she treats their tributes, like this is some kind of reward. Her naive smiles and society ruled life are enough to force him to drink.

He spends most of the year in his messy house, ignoring the rest of the world, except when she calls. It's never about anything important, mostly just to prattle about what the designers are arguing about this year and the new colors for the Games. He rolls his eyes through the majority of their conversations, (which consists of Effie prattling on and on and him just listening), but he answers the phone each time and never tells her not to bother again.

It's late at night after one of their calls when he thinks that Effie might be just as lonely as he is. He feels something within his chest ache at the thought.

He still doesn't compliment her ridiculous wardrobe or even smile at her, but he doesn't snap at her anymore either.

__Progress. __

Of course he won't see that until later, but still, it's enough.

****two.****

He's too old for this crap - mentoring, watching children die horrible deaths, putting up with the Capitol - his bones hurt every morning and his hands shake more than they used to. She doesn't say anything, just smiles and talks, because Haymitch is Haymitch and he's never going to change. She understands why he drinks more and more each year, but he forgets that she has to watch them die, too. She watches bravely, head held high, but when she's finally alone at night, tears fill her eyes.

__They're just kids.__

She thinks what it would have been like if it were her child out there. She sucks in a breath, refusing to think about the procedure she'd had done just before coming to work for the Games. Her hands shake, too, when she sees the young faces in the mining district, but for different reasons.

Her first volunteer is Katniss. Beautiful dark hair and tan skin, while Peeta is light and has the perfect shade of blond in his hair.

She's five years younger than Haymitch, but she's really getting too old for this life, too.

****three.****

It's during the 75th Annual Hunger Games that Haymitch stumbles into her room on accident. It's not as gaudy as he might have imagined, but it's definitely Effie's room. Curiosity fuels him to gaze around the unfamiliar room, taking in her clippings from magazines and various jewels on the nightstand.

There's a soft sound coming from the closet, and he realizes with a pang that she's crying.

He makes his way stealthily around to the other doorway and peers in, getting a shock when he finds Effie... completely unmasked. Her wig is gone, replaced by long blond curls and a make-up free face. She's sifting through her clothes, a hand pressed to her trembling lips, like she's trying her hardest not to be heard. She reminds him of another blond girl from so many years ago in a hellish arena.

"You too, huh?" He says finally, causing her to turn with a jump. Her stunning blue eyes catch him off guard, filled with something he's never bothered to notice before. __Pain.__

"I thought they could be happy." She whispers and he knows who she means. He looks down sadly, stepping into the closet with her.

"There are no happy endings in this world." He breathes, because that's always been his philosophy. He always knew that if he won the Games, he couldn't be the same.

She looks up to him in surprise before finding her voice, "Not for those who deserve them, anyway." He doesn't have time to react when she reaches out and wraps her fingers around his. His hands stop trembling.

Cautiously he raises one hand and touches her hair, he's surprised to find how soft it is. He hates this world for telling her that she isn't beautiful enough. She doesn't move under his touch, but he doesn't say anything and after a while he stands and leaves and she wonders what on earth just happened.

****four.****

She's captured, forced to watch Peeta's torture, tortured herself, but even when she gets rescued there's only one face she registers in the haze of the Capitol's drugs. Haymitch's hair is dirty and too long, but she starts crying the second he finds her, arms around her, his face pressed firmly into her grimy blond hair.

"I'm here, I'm here." His words are quiet, but she can't help but cling to them. Her nails dig into his jacket and her eyes fill with tears because of all the people in the world he would be the one to save her. She can't let go for hours and he doesn't speak. No one says anything to them, so he just holds her firmly.

He's never been so sober in his life, watching this poor woman go through hell and back. She nods off halfway between their trip back to the safe hold, and he presses his lips to her temple very gently.

__Progress.__

He smiles a little, brushing some dirt from the side of her face. He thinks she might be the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

****five.****

It's hard after the Rebellion. It's hard to rebuild lives and homes and sanity. He doesn't go back to drinking, he knows that isn't the way, but he doesn't leave his home either. He watches Katniss and Peeta grow back together through bread and smiles and he feels like throwing something. He hates District 12, hates it more than any other place, but he can't and won't ever leave it.

He knows he resigned himself to solitude a long time ago, but that doesn't mean he just forgets about her. He remembers her stupid accent and laugh and clothes. He remembers closets and smiles and soft fingers over his own.

She stays in the Capitol. It's all she knows, but it's different now. Everywhere is a trigger for her. All she thinks about is smoke and pain and her body hurts so much she doesn't leave her bed most days.

Then she sees a show about him on her screen one night. He's yelling at the reporters to get off his lawn, but he looks good; his hair is shorter, and eyes clearer. It hits her in the chest that she misses him.

Boarding a train without a single possession is easier than she thought, but the further she gets from the Capitol, the more she can breathe freely.

District 12 isn't the wasteland she remembers, but her feet find his home quickly. It's easy to knock on the door and wait for him to open up like always.

His eyes are the perfect shade of blue when she sees him again, her wig and make up discarded. The real Effie Trinket stands, beautiful and brave, on his door step.

And then he kisses her. Hard and fast, like he's waited years to do this, and she doesn't mind one bit.


End file.
